A Life to Remember
by MonikaFilefan
Summary: A universe where Mulder and Scully fall in love in a hospital instead of the basement. They sit together in an unremarkable house and reminisce as a family.


—

"_The very first moment I beheld him, my heart was irrevocably gone." -Jane Austen_

An Unremarkable House

227700 Wallis Road, Farrs Corner, VA

Summer, 2019

A warm, summer night's breeze blows through the open window of their living room, sweeping the thin layer of dust off the framed family memories on the mantel place. Their teenage son's progression of yearly school photos litter the ledge, his freckled baby face transforming slowly into strong, chiseled features as his boyish grin turns into a sly, manly smirk. The newest photo of their redheaded miracle baby—the one they tried desperately to create together for years during each passion filled night, sat front and center above the flickering flame. Moments frozen in time, all surrounding the lone snapshot of their wedding where they said "I do" under the stars as the waves roared on beside them.

The dim lighting illuminating the kitchen is enough for Fox Mulder to watch with rapt attention as his amazing wife of nearly two decades stretches her arms above her head and groans. Her golden red hair is mussed from sleep and frizzing around her temples. The fuzzy, blue robe that matches the cobalt swirl of her tired eyes is hanging loosely around her petite frame; its ends dragging along the hardwood floor where her nude painted toes slide into her slippers. He trails his gaze back up the curve of her hips and the swell of her breasts to her soft, pouty mouth that fits against his so perfectly; which at the moment, is currently frowning down at his supine sprawl.

She has never looked more beautiful to him.

"You know what we need, Scully?" Mulder muses with his head rocking sleeplily along the back of the couch, patting the tiny bottom of their fussy daughter as she nuzzles her downy soft head against his chest.

Scully yawns and flops herself on the cushion next to him. "Yeah, a full night's sleep and caffeinated coffee."

"Well, that second one is what you need. I'm not the one abstaining from caffeine." She tosses him a pointed look and he chuckles. "Or breastfeeding every three hours."

"Damn right," she smirks and soothes the rounded cheek of her baby girl. "But, I can't say I'd have it any other way."

"Exactly my point," he grins. "Since we're being forced to stay awake with this little crank monster, I think we should write ourselves a prescription for a walk."

"A walk," she balks, snuggling deeper into his side and nods to the bundle of pink fighting sleep. "I think it's wise we save all the energy we can, Mulder. We're certainly not getting any younger."

"I can always count on my Scully's rationality; but that's not the kind of walk I meant."

"Oh, Mr. Obscurity?" she smiles fondly, likely recalling the other nickname that had been attached to her husband the day they first met. "Enlighten me."

Mulder reaches down to lace her fingers between his. "Remember the day we met, when you stole my breath right from my chest?"

Sometimes, when Mulder thinks about their first year spent together, he still wonders how he got so damn lucky that such an amazing woman fell in love with a man labeled as spooky.

"When I stole your heart," she knowingly adds and Mulder quickly confirms her words with a kiss to her forehead. "How could Dr. Dana ever forget meeting Dr. Spooky?"

A smile sweeps across his lips before they can even leave her skin. "Tell me."

She sighs, giving his hand a squeeze of agreement as she glances at little Grace mewling against her daddy's sternum. "It was a warm summer day and I had my coffee in hand ready to take on my first patient of the morning, when a handsome new doctor wearing a boyish smirk and a questionable tie was introduced to me…"

—

George Washington University Hospital

Washington D.C.

Summer, 1999

Dana Scully checks her watch and peeks her shoulder length head full of red, perfectly styled hair around the corner of her office doorway in hopes that Dr. Daniel is nowhere to be found. That man is insistent, controlling, and clearly not used to being turned down. His masculine pride seems to be only one of his more off putting qualities. A married man repeatedly refusing to take 'no' for an answer to a question of dating his coworker is certainly not a man she will ever look twice at.

Dating is not on her agenda at the moment, and her last relationship had been such a train wreck that she'd called it off before he could even fully move his belongings into any of her dresser drawers. Her career has moved along perfectly ever since, and the last nine months of being single has been liberating, to say the least.

Dating… well, there's just no room to pencil that into her life right now.

Moving freely down the corridor with her fresh coffee steaming in hand, Dr. Kim suddenly steps out in front of her with an unusual expression of amusement painted across her face; and she is not alone. A tall, slender man with soft, chestnut hair, bright green eyes, wearing a coy, lopsided smirk stands before her.

_Oh, ho-ly shiii… _

"Ah, Dr. Dana, perfect timing," Kimberly grins and tosses her a quick wink. "I'd like you to meet the new Doctor of Children's Psychology here at George Washington."

She shakes her head, as if to erase the image of his sexy smile currently embedding itself into her brain, and gives one of her own. "Very nice to meet you." She's breathless as her hand grips his in greeting, the unexpected thrill of his warm fingers sliding across hers sends a shiver down her spine. "And you are…"

Kimberly pipes in and answers for him. "Dr. Dana Scully, meet Dr. Spooky Mulder. I shared a class with him at Harvard years ago."

She feels her eyes widen at the word Spooky and he just shrugs. "It's a nickname… my scarlet letter, if you will."

He says it with an air of aloofness, yet she can see within his swirling kind eyes that this man is anything but aloof. "I see. Well, we doctors here in the Children's Ward tend to go by our first names. Helps keep things easy and relaxed around the patients and families."

He gives her hand—the one she had easily forgotten was still cradled perfectly within his—a gentle squeeze and leans down slightly to softly say, "Fox Mulder, and it's very nice to meet you, too. But please, I beg you to show a newbie mercy and not call me Dr. Fox."

"Oh, I bet you get called _Fox_ often enough," she huffs out a nervous laugh, shocked that her inner thoughts spill out as audible words instead. She eases her hand out of his and bites her lip like a shy schoolgirl.

_What the hell is happening here? _

Dana Scully does not speak before she thinks, and she certainly does not flirt with her coworkers.She turns, about to excuse herself to Dr. Kim and regain her composure, when it's plain to see that the matchmaking doctor has already left her to fend for herself.

"Does everyone call you Dr. Dana?"

"Excuse me?"

He casually leans a shoulder along the doorframe of his new office, seemingly naturally at ease and repeats himself with a flash of a smile. "Do all your colleagues call you Dr. Dana?"

"Yes, actually. Why?" As much as her mind is telling her to leave and get on with her day, for the first time in a very long time she finds herself curious about another person who isn't under the age of twelve and awaiting her medical diagnosis.

He tilts his head as he locks eyes with her and chuckles. "Just learning... gathering information."

"Assessing, you mean?" She points to his shiny new name plate adorning the door with the words "Fox Mulder, PhD of Child Psychology, LPC" written across it. "I'm not your patient," she reminds him, ignoring his toothy grin and begins to walk away.

"Have a good day… Scully."

She stops, turning slightly on her heel and arches a brow. "Scully?"

"You'll find that I try very hard _not_ to conform to society's norms."

"Ah, well in that case, see you around... Mulder," she tosses back over her shoulder with an air of teasing professionalism, hopefully concealing the sudden blush she feels warming along her cheeks.

Fox Mulder is fire; and she fears, as she turns the corner and palms the cool wall to collect herself, just how much she is willing to risk the burn.

—

Weeks turn to months and months fly by in a blur. New patients and frequent fliers make their way through the operating room as well as a couple of patients that she now shares with Mulder.

Mulder is not like most men in the workplace. He's not like most anyone, at all. He never once looks down on her; even when she strains her neck to look up at him. And the utter respect and equality she feels from him leaves her not only full of gratitude, but full of unwelcome butterflies as well. Her medical expertise and his psychological background mesh effortlessly regarding their patient's care. In fact, she hasn't felt this comfortable disagreeing with anyone but Mulder in her entire life; and not just professionally. They've bantered and teased more often in the past weeks than should be appropriate from a professional standpoint,; yet, Dana knows that relationship is no longer strictly professional.

Fox Mulder is personal.

Wordlessly taking turns buying one another coffee and leaving sticky notes around their offices as a shared expression of friendship has now become the norm for them. They talk about quite a lot during and after their shifts, yet neither have been brave enough to ask the other about _significant others_. She is afraid of his answer—afraid that her sudden rushes of substantial affection for him will not be reciprocated.

She is afraid of the burn.

The nurses on the ward have started a not-so-secret campaign for her and Mulder to be more than just friends;, even at her insistence that they are nothing but platonic. The more she tries to push him away to keep their friendship safe, the deeper he seems to wiggle his way beneath her skin.

Fox Mulder is intelligent, witty, charming, caring, handsome, loyal, intense… well, he is her best friend. _And best friends do not cross that platonic line_, she keeps reminding herself as she stares at him just inches away from her on the other side of her desk. With his sleeves rolled up, his wire-rimmed glasses sliding down his prominent nose, his awful _Star Trek _tie loose and askew, makes those daily self-reminders of hers almost impossible to adhere to.

"Mulder?" She can hardly handle it when he gets so engrossed in work and barely notices when she stares at him for minutes on end. The slight smirk playing at the corner of his mouth is the only clue that he's felt her eyes on him all along. "Why Spooky?"

His pen halts in mid-glide along the paper as his eyes snap to hers. "You really want to know?" At the sight of his narrowed eyes, she can tell he's reading her expression in search of the truth.

"Yes," she swallows under his gaze, unsure of her finally asking the question that rolls through her mind at night, and rambles, "I'm sorry if you aren't comfortable telling me, it's just that I'm not sure I understand why, and we've become close so—"

"It's okay, Scully," he covers her hand with his in reassurance. "I'm glad you want to know more about me personally. I-I want you to know. It's something that I hold close to the vest, even though a few people know the truth due to the origin of Spooky Mulder."

Nodding, she turns her hand to clasp his and squeezes in their now familiar way of expressing supportive comfort. "Okay."

"I had a younger sister, Samantha..." The word _had_ hangs in the air ominously and her breath leaves her chest in an instant. "One day, when she was eight and I twelve, we were playing outside with a group of kids in our neighborhood," he sighs, idly massaging her wrist with his thumb. "She had been sick—headaches and blurred vision were the usual complaints for months between doctor visits that our parents never talked about. As a kid, I was kind of obsessed with mysteries of the unseen and liked to practice magic a lot. Sam loved it, no matter how terrible I was," he smiles sadly, leaving her with a heavy sense of dread in her belly. "The day it happened, my mother had told me to keep an eye on her…"

_Mulder stands in front of a large group of neighborhood kids with his magic wand held high in the air, hovering over Samantha's head. She begs to be his assistant every time he puts on his little magic shows to impress her current friends with a hope to make new ones. _

_He plays along, willingly, regardless of how dorky he looks._

"_Oh, come on. I know you can do better than that. Make me believe, Fox," Samantha jokes and pokes him in the ribs. _

_Her friends laugh and cheer him on, shouting out requests for something "really cool." _

_Serious now, he explains his next trick. "Behold, I will turn my little sister here into a real life zombie!" _

"_Oooh's" and "aah's" burst from the circle of boys and girls as they watch, enraptured. _

_Mulder readies himself and notices his sister suddenly has a sheen of sweat along her furrowed brow. Knowing she hates to be coddled and embarrassed, he ignores it and teases her instead. "Ready to look like the walking dead, Sam?" _

_Sam forces out a grin-like grimace and bites her nails in mock fright. "Ooo, I'm so scared. Let's see what ya got!" _

_Mulder flicks his wand at her, chuckling at their inside joke of playing pranks in hopes of scaring one another into an honest scream. "Alakazam-alakazee, turn my baby sister into crazy zombie!" he hollers, swishing his black cape around her body and tossing a fist full of confetti from his pocket into her face, laughing at the silliness of it all. _

"_Ha! All you did was make me sparkle."_

"_Crap! Maybe next time," he winks. _

"_Doubt it..." Samantha wobbles suddenly, rocking back on her heels with a dazed look in her eye. _

_He watches her shake out her hands as though they've fallen asleep when a wave of panic sweeps over her face. Mulder steps closer just as her legs buckle, sending her small frame crumpling to the ground. _

"_Sam!" he yells, knowing this has nothing to do with his make believe spell. "Mom… someone help!" _

_The crowd of children scatter like mice and Mulder is left clutching the shoulders of his seizing sister, watching helplessly as her body convulses and a line of drool trickles down her jaw. _

"_Oh, my God, she's a zombie," someone cries. "Fox really did it!"_

_As Mulder's whole world comes crashing down, he can't help overhearing the chorus of frightened children shouting in the distance that spooky Fox Mulder has spelled his sister death. _

"...and I've been called Spooky ever since. She didn't die there, of course. Diagnosis turned out to be Batten's Disease; months spent in the Pediatric ICU with seizures, loss of vision, then two major strokes eventually claimed Samantha's life."

"Oh, Mulder…" Dana chokes, swallowing down her emotions for him. "I know you don't need me to tell you this, but you did nothing wrong. Even if those who still call you that have no idea why. And, the Mulder I know... my Mulder is far from spooky."

He inhales sharply. "Your Mulder?"

"Um, yeah." She tucks her chin to her chest, embarrassed at the rather possessive sounding claim of him. He, on the other hand, is burning a hole through her skin with a gaze radiating nothing but anticipation. "Whose Mulder would you be?"

Beaming now, he tangles his fingers with hers, nudging her stocking clad foot beneath the desk and whispers into their joined hands, "Absolutely no one's."

—

An Unremarkable House

227700 Wallis Road, Farrs Corner, VA

Summer, 2019

Dana adjusts Grace's wiggling body along her cloth covered shoulder as Mulder helps tuck her breast back into her night shirt. "God, I still cannot believe people called you that, Mulder."

Knowing the story behind the love of her life's nickname has been a sore spot with her for years.

She watches him shrug as their daughter burps into the curve of her neck. "It was all word of mouth by the time I went to college, Scully. It doesn't hold the same harsh meaning to them as it does to me. Besides, you know I liked the idea of pushing people away if they got too close, of waiting in the wings for fate to come around and bite me in the ass."

She did. Boy, did she know all too well what it was like to wait and hope for something to happen without having to expose her own heart to get it. It's what they had danced around for months before things slowly began to change for them on one gloomy fall day.

"You remember when that happened, when things shifted for us, Mulder?" She wonders if his experience during those long, dark nights spent in the hospital felt the same for him as it did for her.

Mulder gives her a sly grin and walks over to the mantle, running a finger along their family photos and chuckling at William's quirky smile and tousled brown hair from his Sophomore year. "I remember when I finally made the decision with myself to stop waiting in the wings and find out exactly where you stood romantically, yes."

"When was this, exactly?" She's intrigued now more than ever.

Of course, they have discussed on occasion about their years spent as colleagues, friends, and lovers turned husband and wife. But, never in fine detail. They had been too swept up and entwined with one another that the detailed logistics of how they fell in love were merely brushed over. And the details are what Dana has always thrived on.

"It happened right before we received a file on the new patient that changed our lives forever," he breathes, glancing up at her from the photo of Grace and William sitting together on the front porch with a knowing look. "Of course, I was already in love with you at that point… I just hadn't realized it, nor how much I needed you to love me back until then…"

—

George Washington University Hospital

Washington D.C.

Fall, 1999

Scully is paged during a staff meeting to assist on a complicated surgery with a little boy brought into the Emergency Room. She's been gone nearly all morning and Mulder has been waiting anxiously for her to make her way back from the OR.

He wants to look at her and _see_ for himself just how fine she really is after these precarious procedures. Being the only female Pediatric surgeon on staff here, she tends to put up a wall around her emotions when it comes to her pint-sized patients. Mulder seems to be the only one who can appreciate that she might need to do more than just scrub in and scrub out after a potentially emotional event. Listening to her sniffling behind her office bathroom door after one of her patient's tests came back with disheartening results had clued him in on her real need for him as he'd waited patiently for her to throw the mask of professionalism back over her face.

So, he lingers in his office between patients of his own to decipher what she sometimes struggles to express with words.

While witnessing Scully's subtle nuances of emotion with a tick of a brow, a flick of an eye, or a demure smile she gifts him at his eccentric points of view, he has successfully "assessed" her reactions physically. After watching her tiredly shuffle her way down the hallway and practically melt into her office for nearly seven months now, he has officially aced the course _Dana Scully 101: Body Language_.

Emotionally, regarding him, Dana Scully is an enigma. Mulder has no real idea where her emotional stake in him resides. Is he just a friend, a colleague with whom she spends nearly every day with? Or is he something more to her? He believes she's attracted to him physically with the way she blushes at his compliments, shivers at his tactile closeness, and breathes in his scent when she thinks he isn't looking.

But, Mulder is always looking.

He just has no idea what _she_ sees when she looks back.

They have become close friends—his best friend in the months after he'd decided to take a permanent offer at this hospital. He'd accepted it on a whim in search of something more rewarding than hospital hopping as a fill-in psychologist and floating from one terrible relationship to another in the process. That decisive whim turned out to be the best thing he's ever done. It brought him happiness in the form of a beautiful, fiery redhead with a mind even more amazing than his own.

Hearing Scully's familiar footfalls along the marble floor, Mulder hops out of his seat with a smile already pulling at his lips. Just as he is about to open his office door and greet her with an available shoulder to lean on, he hears a woman's soft toned voice already engaged in conversation with her.

"Dana, you know I'm here for you if you ever need to talk." The woman's smooth cadence carries clearly through the crack of Mulder's door.

Scully sighs, and Mulder can imagine her running a finger along her brows in an attempt to hide her exhaustion. "I know. I appreciate it, I do. But I'm fully capable of coming to you if I need to do so, you know. We talk all the time."

"Right, but you've ignored my calls for weeks about the guy I think would be perfect for you. You told me after you kicked what's-his-face to the curb that you'd consider my chiropractor friend, Dr. Pendrell. That was last year. I just don't understand..."

A pregnant pause echoes through the hall and it just about kills him.

"I guess I lied."

He hears a scoff of amusement before she digs a little deeper.

"It just worries me that you'd rather spend your time off the clock all alone in your office, rather than expressing yourself in other ways."

"I know and it has nothing to do with you, Missy. It's just that I've been so busy with work and research…" _Her sister._ He's heard Scully call her that when she talks about her family from time to time, even when he tries not to talk about what's left of his. Mulder hears shuffling of papers and strains to make out the near whispers that leave Scully's mouth. "...not alone. I have someone…"

"Someone?"

Key's clang against the doorknob of Scully's office door as the faint sound of nurses chatting around the corner fades in and out.

"Someone to talk to, Missy, but thanks for the concern about my social life." He can hear her smiling through the words "social life."

Her sister chuckles deviously. "Does this _someone_ relieve that well-wound knot in your belly like the one you're rubbing out along your neck?"

Scully huffs as he listens to them move into her office where their voices trail off. "More like gives me one..."

Her door clicks shut and Mulder stands frozen, clutching his door frame with his mouth hanging open. The fact that her sister had been trying to set Scully up with a man that she deemed a perfect fit for her has him thoroughly flustered. Mulder isn't a jealous person and never had a relationship in his past that mattered enough to give him cause to be. But the idea that Scully could find someone and date him, even though they had never really talked about being available romantically, has jealousy slapping Mulder in the face.

Hard.

Mulder runs a hand through his hair and stumbles onto his black leather sofa his adolescent patients use to sprawl out on as they try to convey their feelings to him. Ironically, this is exactly what he's doing himself.

As he yanks off his tie, he realizes something so blatantly obvious that he's simply overlooked it: he loves her.

Fiercely, and wholly loves her.

Scully is his best friend, his reason for happiness, and the reality that he could lose their emotional closeness to someone else hits him with a force of an unbridled storm: he is in love with her; has been since the day he met her and has no idea how she really feels about him.

He hopes that, maybe, he will have the courage to find out.

—

One month later, Mulder still hasn't found any courage to bring up the subject of loving his best friend and colleague. At least not to her face. Behind closed doors, he mutters under his breath how much she means to him and how he can't live without her. That only further freaks him out, so he pushes back the urge to whisper in her ear what he really _wishes_ they were doing on his couch under the guise of "research."

A quick triple knock on the door alerts Mulder that the love of his life is currently beckoning.

_Jesus, I'm pathetic, _he rolls his eyes at himself.

"Come in." He knows his reading glasses need to be cleaned again, but from mist clouding her bright eyes and the frown pulling at Scully's pink lips, he can tell the thick chart she has a white knuckle grip on contains more than just a sick child's history. "That a new patient for me?"

Sighing as she shuts the door, she avoids eye contact and tentatively slides the chart labeled "Grace Harris" across his desk, tapping the name with a manicured fingernail. "She's my patient I've been treating on and off for the last four weeks. Now, she's ours."

Her hand drifts away and Mulder watches her bite her lip nervously. His heart races as if it already knows what he will find when he opens the manila folder. "Just tell me."

She licks her lips, something she does while feeling unsure or nervous to speak about something heartfelt. Her eyes trail across his diplomas framed along the wall behind him, biding time. She stops at his photo of Samantha as his fish tank along the wall gurgles twice as loudly as before.

"Scully?"

She sits opposite of him, transforming from Scully his friend to Dr. Dana right before his eyes. "Grace Harris, ten years old, presenting with epilepsy only to be re-diagnosed with Batten's Disease." Mulder's heart stops.

_Of course, _he thinks._ Goddammit. _

"That's… rare," his wavering voice betraying his collected exterior. "Her history?"

Clearing her throat, she crosses her legs, showing more creamy thigh than usual and for once, Mulder doesn't look twice.

"Started with blurred vision and adolescent migraines. Progressed into motor skill disorientation and then multiple seizures. She's had two mini-strokes within the last year and was referred to me after her family moved from New York." She pauses and Mulder feels her eyes on him as he toys with the line of pencils atop his desk. "A recent MRI shows a clot in her brain which needs to be removed to prevent another stroke or…"

"Or sudden death," he finishes. Pushing away the heavy ache in his chest, Mulder looks Scully in the eye and sees her own trouble reflecting back at him with laying this at his feet. "She needs to be counseled."

"Yes. She's angry, scared. But, there is always the option to refer her to Dr. Thomas if you would rather sit this one out."

"He's a psychiatrist geared toward adults and wouldn't know jack about how to talk to a scared child."

"Mulder…"

"I'll do it," he says firmly with a nod of his head. "Maybe I can help make a difference in how she sees her life emotionally from now until… well, until you can help her physically." The sad look in her eye remains and Mulder doesn't want to burden her more than necessary. "I'm okay, Scully. This is my job and we're partners in this."

Leaning forward, he touches her arm hitched on his desk and cracks a smile.

A week passes and Mulder sits across from the smart little ten year old with bright green eyes, brown curly hair, and freckles. He already has a soft spot for her with her knack for jokes and her interest in his fish, which she has taken to name each and every one as Grace. When Mulder had asked why she chose her name for them all, she shrugged and told him, "Because it means an elegant blessing. That's what my mom says I am. And, I like fish."

With this being the end of their third session, Mulder knows exactly what she thinks about her illness. She is unnervingly accepting of the fact that her future fate is not likely a good one. Yet, it hasn't deterred her from pushing for normalcy.

"I'm not as dumb as people think," Grace says, twirling her chestnut curl around her little finger. "I know I'm sick but that doesn't mean I can't go to sleepovers and play soccer like I want."

"No one thinks you're dumb, Grace; not at all." Grace cocks her head and crosses her arms, leaning back along the leather couch with the look of _"now I think you're dumb" _painted across her scrunched face. "How would you _like_ people to think of you?"

The annoyed body language disintegrates from her lithe frame and a defiant spark of flames light up her green eyes like a forest fire. "As brave."

—

Mulder's shift ended two hours ago, and here he sits, waiting in Scully's office alone. He's not sure why he came here when he had intended on not throwing more emotional weight on her shoulders, but he thinks it has everything to do with Grace's powerful word said to him before they parted: _brave. _

Maybe he'll have better luck in is romantic life if he takes the advice of his ten-year-old patient.

Scully's heels click along the floor and he listens to her steady stride, slow as she passes his unoccupied office, yet never stops because she knows exactly where to find him.

"Figured I'd find you here," she smirks and whisks her way into her office, wafting the scent of her citrus shampoo in his face. She leans back against the edge of her desk just a foot away from him where he thoroughly examines the lint on his slacks. "Look at me."

Her gentle hand caresses the top of his head, settling at the back of his neck, and he reaches out blindly, bracing Scully's narrow hips under her lab coat with his hands and pulling her close. Her breath hitches as she cradles his head against her stomach. He wraps his arms around her, breathing deeply and soaking up all the comfort she has to give.

"Are you all right?" she asks, stroking his hair. He sighs and nods into her warmth. 

"Yeah. Sessions like that just never get any easier. She reminds me of Sam with the way she smirks—like she knows what I'm thinking before I say it," he admits, reluctant to let loose his tight grasp on her. Their touching and comfort given to one another is easy, natural, and more than that, it's all Mulder seems to live for now that he's gotten used to their delicate dance along the line of friendship and _more_.

He knows that she knows he will go fall asleep on his too small of an office couch thinking about Grace and Samantha. He will rise in the morning with tattered hair and clean himself up in the bathroom before he makes his way down the hall to re-insert himself into her morning routine. She knows it and likes it. He thinks she just might need his presence as much as he needs hers.

—

An Unremarkable House

227700 Wallis Road, Farrs Corner, VA

Summer, 2019

Scully sighs and lays back on the couch with her hands tucked under her cheek. If Mulder tells her how adorable he thinks she looks right now, he'll get a cocked brow and demure smile that she intentionally keeps from breaking into a cheek dimpling grin.

"My sister had unknowingly given you a shove in the right direction. Wow, I bet she'll get a kick out of that one—say that somehow fate intervened and had you overhear our conversation," Scully pauses to watch him powder his daughter's clean bottom and struggle to dispose of her loaded poopy diaper. "She seemed to give me one of my own sometime after that as well now that I think of it. But, I had no idea you ever heard us talking. Why didn't you tell me?"

"Well, it was hard enough admitting to myself how nervous I was about bringing up the fact that I was in love with you. Let alone reliving it by confessing it to you later."

He laughs to himself at Grace's amused expression at the sight of her daddy with his t-shirt pulled up over his nose. His daughter may be sweet, but her smell isn't always the case. Her little fists flail in the air, knocking him right in the nostrils. "Hey that's a pretty good swing there, baby girl. But you've got to arc like this," Mulder takes her pudgy arm between his forefinger and thumb, gently demonstrating, "See, you got it!"

"Mulder, teaching her how to hit is not something we want her learning. Especially before her terrible twos, in case you've forgotten William's old habit of low swings."

"Oh, I remember. Vividly, in fact," he cringes at the phantom ache in his balls. One he'd felt for hours after Will had gotten a bit too excited during playtime. "Of course I want my daughter to be kind, gentle, and affectionate. But, I also want her to know she can throat-punch someone if she needs to," he grins, hearing Scully chuckle as he bends down to kiss Grace's button nose.

"Hey now, that's my job."

"And Mommy would know," Mulder teases, thinking back on the self-defense classes she's taken over the years. "She could kick my ass."

"Mulder."

"What? I'm man enough to admit it."

Scully lifts her head from the pillow on the couch's end and smirks."Oh, speaking of man enough, did you know William kissed Sarah?"

Mulder did know since he unfortunately had front row seats to the show. "Yeah, I actually saw it through the front window as they made out on the porch." He already had the sex talk with Will almost a year ago on his fifteenth birthday, but his son hadn't had a steady girlfriend until recently. Stumbling through the living room and hearing giggling on the porch had Mulder peeking through the window and getting slapped in the face with the explicit reality that his son had likely done a lot more than just kiss Sarah. "I'll spare you the details."

"Good idea," she frowns.

Mulder scoops up his little one with the mean right hook and sinks down on the couch.

Scully props her small slipper clad feet across his lap and smiles. "On the topic of kisses, our first one was pretty amazing."

"Amazing is right. Hell, I never thought it would have turned out the way it did."

She wiggles her toes against Grace's tiny ones dangling above and sighs. "I think I knew." He arches a brow at her, urging her to continue. "I think I knew that it was up to me to choose how and when."

"You're right. I knew that, but did you know that night was _the night_?"

"Not until it was happening…"

—

George Washington University Hospital

Washington D.C.

Winter, 1999

Dana had once believed that being content to be alone and single was a sign of strength, not weakness. For a long time, she has been just that. But now… a day that she doesn't see Mulder, doesn't speak to him with words or a loaded glance, doesn't flush with warmth from head to toe at the way he smiles and says her name, seems to be a day that's somehow incomplete.

Mulder is a man that has become an unavoidable hot topic in her life. As of late, he is the star of her midnight fantasies as well as the subject of uncomfortable discussions with her mother after Sunday morning mass. That was all thanks to her sister spilling the beans about her _someone to talk to_ at work.

New Year's Eve is tomorrow and her mother has informed her that she and Melissa will be stopping by the hospital to "bring the last of the holiday leftovers to enjoy" with her at lunch today. Her brothers have returned to their own homes after Christmas and her father has spent the last five Christmas mornings in Heaven. So, Dana usually looks forward to spending extra time with her family when she can.

Except for this time.

This time Mulder is more than likely to stop by. Of course, this time with her perceptive sister and curious mother watching, the more than platonic feelings she's been concealing from him for nearly nine months now might not stay hidden for much longer.

—

Dana, her mother, and Melissa make their way up from the hospital's cafeteria after lunch, following the painted murals of wild animals, rainbows within sunny skies, and smiling children playing in hospital gowns that adorn the walls of the Pediatric Wing. _If only paintings could cure,_ she muses as they walk, completely missing the fact that Mulder's office is empty.

As the three of them file into her office, she smells his familiar scent of sandalwood before she even sees him. "Hello, Mulder."

"Hey, Scully." She stands off to the side and doesn't need to wait long before her sister pounces first.

"Oh, you're Dana's friend? Mulder, is it?" Her hand is shaking his before he can even respond.

"That's me. I'm Fox Mulder and my office is just down the—"

"Fox! Oh my, Sis…"

Dana cringes behind her fingers and hopes Mulder doesn't get embarrassed over her quirky, overzealous sister. While her mom steps up to introduce herself, Melissa circles behind Mulder and hangs her mouth open in mock shock as she fans herself dramatically.

She rolls her eyes. _Yes, I know he's sexy. I notice everyday, _she tries to convey with a click of her tongue. _Time to intervene_.

"Mulder, this is my mother, Maggie Scully, and my sister, Melissa, that you've heard me speak plenty about." Dana waves her hand around, "and this is Mulder."

He grins, seeming genuinely excited to meet her family. "That I have," he nods, slowly migrating towards the open door. "Happy to meet you both. Dana here is the only reason I've stuck around..."

The rest of the sentence is lost to her as his voice uttering "Dana" rolls around languidly in her mind. A sudden question of whether he would breathe out her given name or Scully during the throes of passion pops into her head unbidden.

"Isn't that right, Scully?"

Dana blinks rapidly and flicks her eyes between the three people currently staring at her quizzingly.

Clearing her throat and ignoring her sister's knowing smirk, she simply shakes her head, not knowing what she's agreeing to, and says with a smile, "Mulder keeps me on my toes—likes to argue for the off-the-wall experimental treatments regarding my patients."

Mulder shrugs sheepishly and nods. "You know they aren't out of the realm of extreme possibility."

"Oh, I like him, Dana," Melissa nudges her arm, doing nothing to quell the jovial lilt in her voice.

She closes her eyes and sighs. There is no getting out of this encounter without a Scully woman tossing out an opinion on her love life. Or lack thereof.

"Yes, I'm sure you do, Missy," she returns pointedly. Dana knows for a fact if given the chance her sister would swoon under the spell of Fox Mulder. Over her dead body.

_Wait, what? Oh, my God I'm jealous._

"He's _your_ perfect opposite, your complementary," Melissa shamelessly states with a pointed look of her own. "Not mine," she grins and turns to chat with Mulder pretending to show interest in Dana's medical textbooks along the bookshelf.

If Dana hadn't been clenching her teeth in embarrassment, her jaw would have dropped.

"I like him. He challenges you in a good way, right?" her mom murmurs with a gentle smile, surely already certain of the answer to her question.

Dana glances over at Mulder who's now studying her with a gaze that sends gooseflesh across her skin. She ducks her head behind a curtain of hair to hide the blush she feels creeping up the apples of her cheeks. "Yeah...Yeah, in a good way."

—

It's the eve of the new Millennium, and with two doctors taking a vacation on one of the highest traffic nights of the year, Dana is on call in the ER. Fortunately for her, that means that Mulder is likely to be "on call" right along with her.

A cramp in her neck is getting unbearable and the clock on her office wall showing 11:49 PM is mocking her.

"Ugh, I'm exhausted." She stretches, peeking over to see Mulder lounging in her plush office loveseat next to her. He looks ridiculously sexy with his long legs sprawled out, shirt sleeves rolled up to expose his bronze skin as he brushes his narrow feet along her sore toes resting along the table. "And so are you."

"I'm getting there. But you know me, insomnia and I are best friends. I mean, next to you that is." He winks and continues, "It's not like I have a person sitting up waiting impatiently for my arrival tonight."

Dana figures as much but as she continues to write in Grace's chart, she cannot hide the sudden thrill at the thought of her best friend's relationship status finally defined as "single."

"I find it hard to believe you'd rather spend endless time here, after hours, every day of the week just for my usual company and lackluster coffee if you have a person to go home to. Especially on a night like tonight."

Months of sharing D-grade hospital coffee and conversation about patients, life, and nothing at all as they worked on late night research are hardly enough to warrant planning the rest of her life around a man. Yet, she cannot deny that that is exactly what she's been doing. Friendship or not, Scully has deep-seated feelings for Mulder that she finds increasingly difficult to hide anymore. But, she isn't quite sure that she is willing to risk what they have now for the chance to be something more.

"Scully," he says, "whether I may or may not have a personal life outside this hospital, I would still choose to be spending all my free time here with you." Scully freezes with her pen hovering in mid-air, her wide eyes fixed on his bright green ones. _Oh, God it's like he can read my mind! What is he doing? Putting me on the spot while I'm currently obsessing about my feelings for him is not a good idea. _She feels a flush spreading across her cheeks and smiles softly as he continues, "And, I don't, by the way… have a personal life with anyone but you."

She clears her throat, eyes darting around the office and quickly swipes her tongue across her lips. "That's good to hear, Mulder. Since my, uh, _personal_ life seems to revolve around everything in this room anyway."

Her eyes search his, a forest of bottomless green that threatens to engulf her. Dana now has her answer to the danced-around question of where their hearts belong; he only wants her and she only wants him. Even if they never actually speak it.

_But, is that enough?_

She shakes her head, frustrated with where her thoughts are going when she should be focusing on developing a new technique to prolong little Grace's life. Dana scoffs at herself and sets the chart down on the end table in front of her, flinging the pen as punctuation on her unspoken sentence of annoyance.

"Mulder…"

He brushes his fingertips along her forearm which sends a shock wave of electricity across her skin. Mulder laces his fingers through hers and she sighs with relief that he finally touched her again.

"We'll figure this out, Scully. You will. And, I'll be right here with you when you do."

Her heart thuds erratically in her chest.

_Oh, God, how does he know exactly what to say to make me want to throw caution to the wind, tear his clothes off, and climb into his lap?_

She clenches her thighs as vivid images of their bare bodies colliding against one another flashes before her eyes… He's pumping into her, languid and deep as she sways above him, moving in an undulating drift of ecstasy. Her legs stretched astride his thrusting hips, tremble and squeeze him tighter. _Mulder_ pours from her parted lips like a prayer as her head falls back with the swell of her rising orgasm. Shattering, her mouth crashes against his and…

"Scully?" Mulder shakes her hand, then squeezes reassuringly. "You were a million miles away."

Rubbing the tips of her fingers along her tingling lips, she tells him the truth. "I'm fine. Just… thinking about things."

"Holding back, are we?"

She scoffs. "You could say that."

She feels his eyes dance around the side of her face. "There are things I've been holding back from saying myself. On doing..."

"What things?" Dana pushes, surprising herself at her forwardness after her fantasy, but the combination of curiosity and the gravitational pull of his body sitting so closely to hers on the loveseat is making her bold.

"So many things," he rasps, avoiding her stare. "Things I'm not sure you're ready to hear me say… or do."

Her chest swells with nerves and feels her belly flutter in anticipation. She wants to know, she does. She hopes it's exactly what she feels for him, even though the possible thought of being right could threaten the best relationship she's ever had.

_Tell me,_ shoots through her mind but the words "show me" tumble out instead.

"Show you?" he repeats, looking pleased.

Dana watches his Adam's apple bob as his hazel gaze flicks to her lips. Her breath catches in her throat as he shifts on the couch, his face so close to hers, leaning, leaning, and—

Her pager vibrates wildly along her hip, snapping them both back to reality. "Oh… it's the ER. I'm on call."

"I remember. Scully I…"

Fireworks boom and spray a rainbow of color outside her office window, timestamping the moment in which things have burst wide open between them forever.

"I gotta go." She stands, shaky and keyed up, bold. She looks down at him leaning with elbows on his knees and fumbling with the tail of his loosened tie. The urge to touch him takes over. "Mulder…"

His eyes meet hers and she is lost. Her hands brace his beautiful face and she pulls him to her chest.

"Happy New Year, Mulder," she breathes into his thick, silky hair, fingers dancing along the nape of his neck. She feels the hitch in his breathing against her sternum, and his gentle hands bracketing her hips squeeze her enough for her body to tell her that she's not going anywhere.

She gasps as he runs his thumb across her waist, along her hip bone, and she knows he can feel her hand shake as her fingers move down to dig deeply into his shoulders.

"Happy New Year, Scully," he whispers up at her, eyes shining with an explosion of color through the window. And before she knows it, her mouth is covering his, gliding deliciously from lip to lip. One hand combs through his hair, the other holding on for dear life as she gets swept away on a wave of lust.

It's the first time on New Year's Eve that she has ever watched fireworks light up in front of her eyes without looking to the sky.

"Mmm," he moans in her mouth just as her pager buzzes again and pulls her bottom lip from between his teeth.

"I-I'm sorry…" She's breathless, fumbling to regain her lost control as his fingers tighten along her hips.

He scoffs. "I'm not."

She can't do this—love someone physically without telling him emotionally. She won't. She never has. That has been her problem for years in the relationship department. She would attempt to commit to more than just a date or two and find herself unhappy when she just couldn't feel that heartstopping, all encompassing love for them. This is different, more.

Mulder is different. He is _more_.

Her feelings for Mulder _are_ heartstopping and all encompassing; and the thunderous heartbeat pounding her ears is almost as intense as the storm of butterflies churning in her belly.

It scares the shit out of her.

She feels the heat rise up her cheeks and drops her chin to her chest. This could change everything. "I shouldn't have—I won't kiss you again, Mulder."

He smiles sadly as she licks away the Mulder-taste stuck to her lips—the same taste of her fantasy. She's thrumming and warm all over as her heart races in her chest.

Grazing his fingers over her hand still clutching his shoulder, he whispers, "I have a feeling you will."

She tries to look incredulous, she really does, yet she feels the exact opposite as the salty, sweet taste of him still lingers along her lips. "Is that so?"

"Kiss me again, Scully, when you finally admit you've fallen for me. But _only_ then…" he shakes his head with that little wrinkle of seriousness between his brows that always softens her resolve is as prominent as ever.

"_If_," she corrects, as she reluctantly steps out of his grasp and turns to walk out of her dimly lit office, knowing all too well she has already fallen.

—

An Unremarkable House

227700 Wallis Road, Farrs Corner, VA

Summer, 2019

Grace stirs and lets out a strong wail of unhappiness as Mulder rubs her back. She is their _elegant blessing_: strong and determined to beat the odds. Much like the Grace they were so emotionally invested in years ago.

Dana thinks about the moment their baby came screaming into the world to lie bloody and gorgeous upon her chest. The miracle of life cradled within her palms, staking her claim upon their lives forever is a memory that would not exist without Mulder and his intense need to never give up on a miracle.

After their third round of IVF had failed, Dana had wanted to give up and admit that it just wasn't meant to be. But Mulder's determination to believe in the miracle of life had produced their redheaded, opinionated, bundle of love naturally, after a fifteen year age gap between her and William. Will was conceived without thought just under three years into their marriage, and God, did they have fun making him. Their son entered the world on a warm summer's night, overdue, red faced, and hungry. A mama's boy for years only to bond with his father in a way that melts Mulder's heart and still brings a quiver to her chin.

"Oh, Mulder, she's spitting up," Dana jolts forward to snag a burp cloth but is seconds too late. A thick, steady stream of white shoots out of Grace's tiny mouth and splatters along Mulder's front, soaking his shirt with breast milk.

Mulder hops back, holding Grace out away from his spit up covered chest as her cries echo through the house. "Ah, that's hot! And, really damn gross," he squeaks out through a grimace.

"Oops!" The whole thing would be comical if she didn't have to start a load of laundry at 4:22 AM. "Here, wipe her face and strip."

"I'm a little too tired for sexy time right now, Scully, but if you're offering…"

She huffs. "Shut up, Mulder, and show the goods."

After tossing the impressively drenched shirt into the washer, Dana returns to the living room. She sees their daughter now laying contently on the couch sucking her fingers, and stops inches away from her bronze, bare-chested husband. His skin is wiped clean and shining in the dim light glowing from the kitchen. She feels his eyes narrow in on her as she examines the round, puckered scar decorating the flesh below his shoulder for the millionth time.

"Hey. Yeah, it's still here; but so am I," he whispers to the crown of her head as she palms his nineteen year old injury. "I don't regret getting this, Scully. Not for a second. In a way, Grace pointed us in the right direction. And, if I remember the story correctly, it's the day you told me you were in love with me."

"It is," she nods, placing a kiss to his chest. "And I'll never forget it…"

—

George Washington University Hospital

Washington D.C.

Spring, 2000

Dana drags herself down the hallway after what feels like the longest day spent in this hospital in years. Her feet are aching within her orthopedic sneakers; her hair that's pulled back in a loose pony likely looks like she hasn't brushed in days; the brief glimpse of herself in the shiny steel elevator doors only confirmed the look of sheer exhaustion that her body is currently fighting.

The anticipated surgery to lengthen and improve Grace's life has not gone according to plan. Dana and the surgical team had performed the delicate procedure perfectly, but her little body had been through so much already and chose to, hopefully, temporarily induce a comatose state to heal her brain.

Knowing Mulder is waiting for her to deliver the news of his new favorite patient, she inhales and opens her office door.

"Hey you," he smiles and moves to switch on the light. "How'd the procedure go?"

The sight of the pallor of her face that she knows is sparkling with unshed tears stops him in his tracks. "It didn't take did it?"

"Not like we hoped, no."

Mulder lays a reassuring hand to her shoulder as she picks at her fingernail, gently massaging away the knot of tension.

"How is she?" His voice is low and tender and it only makes her professional resolve she's been trying to keep up weaken. Her silence gives him the answer he's searching for and he sighs, tucking away a stray strand of red that has fallen from her slicked-back hair. "She's comatose, isn't she?"

"Yeah," she whispers, biting her trembling lip.

He groans. "You got the clot and damaged tissue?" Dana nods and Mulder taps his finger under her downturned chin. "How're her parents?"

Regaining her composure that his comfort quickly rebuilt, she looks up, her misting eyes locking onto his supportive ones, and explains to him wordlessly just how terrible Mr. and Mrs. Harris are doing.

"I figured as much." His brow creases—likely feeling the sting of unhealed wounds of his own and gives her fidgeting fingers a squeeze. "If they're feeling up to it in a couple days, I can clear my schedule to talk to them."

His comment geared toward future treatment, snaps her out of her depressive state. She pulls away, and pushes back the underlying feeling of failing not only Grace and her family, but Mulder as well. "Well, we certainly have more work to do. I need to go check on her…"

"Scully—"

"...update her chart," she finishes and brushes back past him to flee, but stops as she crosses the office threshold and glances over her shoulder. "Thank you, Mulder, for… just thanks."

She catches the beginning of a smile pull at his lips and suddenly, the phantom feel of their softness pressing against hers glosses across her mouth before she reluctantly swipes it away and leaves.

—

_Twenty-four hours later..._

Dana trudges her way towards her office after another long afternoon of tirelessly working on a new plan to help Grace for when, or if, she wakes up. After checking her vitals and her chart from the night-shift doctor's notes and her own notes from today, she is finally satisfied that they are doing everything right.

But it doesn't make her feel any better.

Mulder has been checking up on her in his own subtle way, gauging her as he would a patient of his own; and she finds that she actually likes it. Just before she rounds the corner, a tall, thin man glaring at her with red-rimmed eyes and darkness hovering underneath, steps out in front of her.

"Dr. Dana," the man grumbles.

A strong smell of alcohol nearly knocks her off her feet. It's not until she really looks at the man as a whole that she recognizes who he is. Michael Harris, Grace's father, and he is visibly hurting.

"Oh, God!" he keens loudly, attracting the attention of a family sitting in the children's waiting room.

"Please," Dana ushers the distraught father off to the corner at the end of the hall adjacent from Mulder's office. The "GWUH Heals" sign painted in bright, smiling faces of children hanging above their heads makes her gut churn.

"Grace's condition is likely temporary, but the truth is, we just don't know. I'm truly sorry this happened, Mr. Harris… Michael. You have no idea how sorry I am," she assures him with a pained expression tugging at her face.

He recoils, his face reddening as his eyes glaze over. "No! You have no idea just how sorry!" His hand unexpectedly arcs around his back and yanks out something black that shines in the fluorescent lighting.

Scully recognized the object now aimed feet away from her head as a Smith and Wesson 380 handgun. The same one her father gifted her as a housewarming present after college for protection.

"_It's small, easy to handle, and the trigger pulls back smooth. Perfect for the slender fingers of a surgeon,"_ her father told her. _"Aim sure and steady and you'll hit your mark about 90% of the time."_

Odd that this is the detail she chooses to focus on in the moment.

"You…" he spits. Dana takes a step back, breath quick as her body prepares for flight or fight. "You promised to help her; my baby girl. And now she's in a goddamn coma with her brain damaged for good because of you doctors!"

"That's not true. She could wake up with no residual side effects at all, Mr. Harris."

Raising her hands slowly in the air, she continues to murmur reassuring words in hopes of calming him long enough for anyone to notice and call security. She'd been so caught up in her own anguish about Grace and how any scared family who overheard would be affected that she disregarded hospital protocol and, knowingly, isolated herself from others with an emotionally agitated parent.

Time slows like taffy stretching through the air between the two of them.

Moments from her past flutter through her mind like a highlight reel. The images most recent and clear are of the moments she and Mulder have shared together: Mulder slipping her notes riddled with innuendo during monthly staff meetings. Mulder bringing her the good coffee from her favorite shop with a new message written around the cup in his messy scrawl. Mulder holding her hand as she sobbed in silence when she lost her first patient six months ago. Mulder gifting her homemade coupons for a foot rub and shoulder massage for Christmas she has yet to cash in. Mulder's lips caressing hers in the most passionate kiss she'd ever had as her own fireworks burst within her heart.

_Mulder._

He is the last thought that passes through Dana's mind before chaos ensues. A guttural scream, a flash of someone diving to tackle her assailant headfirst into the wall, and a loud bang of gunfire explodes around her.

Ear piercing shrieks break through the immediate, deafening cone of silence. It's not until the pain from her vocal cords sears through her throat that Dana realizes the screaming is coming from her.

She stumbles forward, heart banging in her chest as the man who just saved her life moans and rolls off of Mr. Harris's still body, leaving a trail of crimson behind.

"Mulder!" she cries, "No!"

Dana falls to the floor, cupping his face contorting in pain, and immediately applies pressure to the side of his shirt that's rapidly soaking with blood. "Mulder, Jesus Christ." She's breathless as she flicks her eyes over to double check that the shooter remains knocked out cold against the wall.

Mulder coughs and instantly hisses in agony as his eyes flutter shut. "Scully…"

Tearing open his shirt to assess exactly where he's been hit, a fresh wave of blood streams freely from his upper left chest, just under his shoulder. "Mulder? Hey, stay with me, okay? Help is coming," she reassures him with a soothing tone, yet only worries herself in the process.

Vaguely, Dana registers a group of nurses as they cautiously round the corner while a stampede of footfalls from the other end of the hall rumble along the hard floor beneath her knees. "Get a gurney!" she yells as she fumbles her hand around his back, palpating for an exit wound.

There isn't one.

"_Fuck!" _she mutters, quickly returning her palm to his chest.

Mulder gasps and she watches his eyes roll as he loses consciousness. Panicking, she scoops his head into her lap, needlessly soothing his hair back as she attempts to think like the doctor she is, and not the horrified family member she feels like.

A terrible thought of what could be impacted or cut by the shredding action of the bullet enters her mind. Mulder could walk away with lifelong side effects. There is no such thing as a minor gunshot wound of little consequence. If the bullet tore an artery, he could hemorrhage right before her eyes. A total bleed out.

_Stop the bleeding. Stop the bleeding. Stop the bleeding..._

"Where the hell is everyone?" Dana intends to scream at the stunned nurses moving in slow motion yet nothing escapes but a whisper. She blinks down at Mulder's head lolled along her thigh, her vision blurring as her heart races with rising terror.

_Oh, God, what if the bullet changed course as he fell and nicked his ascending aorta? What if it migrates toward his spinal cord? What if it there's irreversible damage? What if he—_

A shrill alarm blares from above, a rush of doctors and hospital security swarm around the three of them laying on the floor. The time it took for Mulder to jump in front of her, take the man down, and absorb a bullet had taken only seconds. Yet, with the warmth of his blood quickly seeping through her fingers and down into a growing pool of red, it all seems to last forever.

The cacophony of shouts comes out as muffled jargon in Dana's head, but she never removes her stare from the most important person in her life. In her periphery, she sees three cops snapping cuffs on Mr. Harris's limp, prone body as a nurse checks his pulse. She feels a strong grip tugging at her wrist, which is currently pressing down so hard along Mulder's bleeding wound that her whole body is shaking with effort.

"We have him now, Doctor," someone says. "Dana, we have him. You can let go now so we can take him to the OR." The voice seems familiar but everything sounds like she's being held underwater.

Mulder's limp body being lifted in the air above her and rushed down the hallway on a gurney is the last thing Dana sees before a wave pulls her the rest of the way under.

—

"Dana," a woman says from above, shaking her arm and nudging her cheek. "Dana, wake up. It's me, Dr. Kim."

Blinking, Dana sits up slowly, finding herself on a stretcher rolled out in front of the entrance to the OR. Drying blood covers both of her hands and her white lab coat is streaked with crimson. "What…" Instantly, the reality of what has just occurred comes rushing back to her. "Mulder."

"Yes, he's stable and being prepped for surgery right now. As Chief, I'm going to scrub in and assist," she explains while helping Dana to her feet. "Are sure you're okay?"

"I can help you," she strains against the lump currently clogging her larynx as a fresh wave of panic washes over her. "I have to help. He needs my help, needs me…"

Firm hands grip around her arms and startles her out of her spiraling haze.

"He needs you to be right here for him when he wakes, Dana. You're a damn good surgeon, but this is personal for you," Dr. Kim reiterates and gives her a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder. "You'll be the first to know when we're through."

At that, she rushes down the hall as she pulls on her surgeon's cap and disappears into the scrub room, leaving Dana alone to crumple to the floor as hot tears burn her cheeks.

Time passes; she has no clue now much, but Dr. Kim's words roll through her head like a bowling ball careening its way through her skull.

_This is personal for you._

_Personal._

_Fox Mulder is personal. _

"Because I'm in love with him," she finally admits aloud what she's been holding hostage within her heart. She fell for Mulder the moment she saw him, the moment their eyes connected and his hand slipped perfectly into hers.

The moment she unintentionally held her heart over the fire and relished the burn.

—

Five hours, two police interviews, and one locker room shower later, Dana keeps vigil at Mulder's bedside. He's been in recovery for an hour now and after grilling the surgeons for every detail, she finally feels confident enough to tell Mulder that his recovery will be smooth sailing compared to what it could have been. The bullet tore through his Pectoralis major and lodged its way into his Latissimus dorsi muscles. Other than being incredibly sore for weeks to come, Mulder is very lucky.

_That's if I can force him to actually attend weeks of physical therapy,_ she considers with a smile. _He hates to follow rules. _

The nurses, who have held the not-so-secret hope that she and Mulder would_ "pull their heads out of their asses and get together already" _hover around the ICU, waiting for the moment that Mulder finally wakes. Dana knows she is a pest, obsessively checking his chart and vitals, refusing to leave even for a moment… But, she only has one place to be and here she sits, squeezing the hand of the man she loves until it squeezes back.

"Hey there."

"Must be bad," he rasps, heavy eyes squinting half open. "Were you hurt?"

"No, Mulder, you idiot. You are," she says without so much as a smirk. Her utter terror for his well-being is still too fresh in her mind. "What you did… God, you took a bullet for me."

Dana is in awe of what he'd done for her but angry that he had risked his life in the process. Now she knows for certain that she cannot live without him, and never wants to try.

"How could I not?"

Gripping his hand, she leans in and kisses his forehead, his cheek, and as he nuzzles her nose with his, she kisses that, too. Then, without any thought at all, she slides her mouth down to place a soft, tender kiss to his lips.

Realizing what she has just done, Scully hovers over him, just a breath away and

cups Mulder's jaw as heat flames up the swell of her cheeks.

"You kissed me," he points out, his voice thick as a lazy smirk tugs at his mouth.

She sighs, caressing his prickly face with her thumb and laces her fingers through his warm ones now resting along his pounding heart. "I did."

"I knew you would," he tells her as she licks her lips, surprised that the last coil of concern for losing her best friend she has held deep inside her heart before is now replaced with nothing but absolute certainty.

With an arch of a brow and a flutter in her chest, she nods and squeezes his hand tighter. "I knew I would, too."

"Gonna do it again, Scully?"

She smiles and tilts her head in mock thought. "What do you think?"

The grin slowly melts from his face as a hand connected to his good arm snakes through the unkempt tendrils of hair, pulling her forehead to meet his. "I think… you're gonna kiss me again and again and again, Scully." Her eyes flutter shut. "Because you love me, maybe even as much as I love you."

She exhales, rocking her forehead against his and melts into his embrace, murmuring, "How could I not?"

As her lips claim his once again, moving languidly and passionately, Dana faintly registers the muffled sound of applause drifting through the open door.

—

An Unremarkable House

227700 Wallis Road, Farrs Corner, VA

Summer, 2019

The cicadas' shrill carries through the living room on a gust of warm air, billowing out the floor-length curtains. The calm of the night, and the steady cadence of her mother's voice, has finally lolled Grace back to sleep.

"Wow, Scully. I lived through all of that with you, but hearing you tell our story from your point of view is incredible."

"I feel the same way," she murmurs along his arm.

A sharp snore comes from William's room upstairs and startles Mulder. He chuckles and the sleeping bundle of baby curled up under his chin bobs up and down with his laughter. "When she sleeps, she sleeps like you, Scully."

"_When_ she sleeps is right. The teenager that's currently sawing logs up there," she points over her shoulder, "Sleeps just like you. _When_ you sleep, that is."

"Touché."

Mulder looks up and studies the framed letter that was sent from Grace Harris on her eighteenth birthday, thanking her doctors for prolonging her life years after she and her family had ever hoped. It was rare for a child to be diagnosed with Batten's Disease and even more rare to live past their teens, yet with the right course of treatment in childhood, Grace had "rocked life" until the age of twenty-one.

Grace's story is a miracle to so many—an inspiration to other children fighting rare genetic diseases, and Scully chose to honor her name for their own miracle.

Grace's father, who had held Scully at gunpoint and inadvertently shot Mulder, spent time in prison, and was subsequently released early under the care of a mental health professional. Mulder pushed for Mr. Harris' early release, sympathizing for the man who snapped under the pressure of knowing his world was coming to an end.

Scully nudges his arm, sensing where his thoughts have taken him as he stares at Grace's words. "Everything happens for a reason."

He nods. "All of those things that lead us to this very moment… well, I wouldn't change a second of it."

"Me either," she agrees. "I may have thought you were dangerous for me and our friendship, like playing with fire… but we could take the heat."

"We do steam up a room pretty well together, Scully." He sees her blue eyes sparkle in amusement before they roll just like he knows they will.

"And not one of those recollections on this walk to remember included all the incredible sex," she jokes. "I'm shocked."

"Oh Scully, that's no walk. That's a marathon of epic proportions. One that we probably don't have enough energy to even think about running at this hour."

She stretches up from her snug cocoon of warmth and kisses his prickly jaw, then nuzzles Grace's soft, button nose before leaning back beside him. "Maybe, tomorrow night then. Same time, same place," she slurs.

He grins down and watches her lashes flutter. "It's a date."

They stare at one another with heavy eyes, wordlessly communicating every thought and emotion encompassing them in that moment. Their past may have been all based on a meeting of happenstance, of being at the right place at the right time in their circle of life. But, for Dr. Dana and Dr. Spooky, their present was anything but coincidence. It was a choice—their choice to follow their hearts and walk the path fate had laid out for them.

Together.

For better or worse.

Mulder watches as Scully's eyes drift shut and her head lolls back along the cushion. He gently tucks a strand of fiery hair behind her ear, smiling happily as their baby's heart thuds against his. He finally closes his eyes just as the sound of their son's snores drift down the stairway.

A _life_ to remember, indeed.

—


End file.
